Sidus Ad Quirito Diabolo
by Ceris Malfoy
Summary: This series is going to be a bunch of one-shots and drabbles related to my story, Diabolicae Foedus. Currently: Curiosity kills. SG AU. RnR.
1. Beauty in the Beholder's Eye

**Title:** Sidus Ad Quirito Diabolo

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Drabble #1: **_**Beauty in the Beholder's Eye**_

**Summary:** Unicron watches, and Unicron _sees_. And maybe, just maybe, he thinks there can be more.

**Pairings: **Unicron/Starscream (slight)

**Warnings: **bad mojo

**Continuity:** Shattered Glass, major AU

**A/N:** This series is going to be a bunch of one-shots and drabbles related to my story, Diabolicae Foedus. Each is capable of standing alone, but it is highly recommended that you read that one-shot first. Some of these will simply be longer, more embellished bits of story that didn't make it into the main fic, others will be events before and after and during that the main fic _couldn't_ get into. And still more may be brought about by clever people giving me prompts (hint, hint). What I can promise: a lot of angst, horror, and character death. What I can't promise: regular updating schedules, that your prompts WILL be used, or fluff.

That being said, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p>"<em>And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, till the Devil whispered behind the leaves 'It's pretty, but is it Art?'"<em>

_-Rudyard Kippling_

Unicron looks at his beautiful seeker sitting so still and quiet on his make-shift throne of corpses, and knows that this will not end here. The seeker once known as the pacifist-scientist Starscream sits straight and proud, odd gold-red optics calculating and cold and imperious. That seeker had suffered and suffered, never saying a word, never offering anything other than silence and cold, frigid acceptance to his tormentors, and now he wears that hollow pride like an invisible mantle that defines him in some way even Unicron can't quite explain. Starscream has been made to suffer beyond all limits, has been made to learn the true value of pain and agony and ember-splitting rage, and now it is his turn to show his enemies just how well he has learned. This seeker had always been a fast learner, and time spent locked away in his own mind has only sharpened and honed his manic intelligence. There is certain madness there, but there always is with genius of that nature.

Some just hide it better than others.

Unicron looks at his beautiful, beautiful seeker, and sees what others with their mortal optics never will, and never can: Starscream has transcended. His rage is boundless, his wrath unmeasured, and his mind so focused that nothing else matters. It does not matter that most of those standing alive and horrified on the other side of a battlefield already strewn with corpses are innocent of any wrong done to his or his long-dead kin; it does not matter that these mechs bear blue optics instead of red or a red sigil instead of purple; it does not matter that most of Cybertron itself could not be implicated in what had happened so long ago.

It doesn't matter, not to Starscream, and consequently, not to Unicron. What matters is the rage, the need for vengeance, and the complete and utter disregard for whom, exactly, had committed those crimes. His seeker cares not about what is right and what is wrong – that distinction has been torn from him the very moment he first saw a sparkling forced upon a full-grown mech's horrendously-modified spike. No. All Starscream cares about is that they live while his people do not, and such is an abomination no longer capable of being accepted.

Starscream has the power now, in the form of a contract, to do something about his all-consuming rage. And do something, does he ever.

So, Unicron watches as his contractor, his beautifully mesmerizing seeker, settles back upon his throne of corpses, imperious and proud and unforgiving, a god amongst mortals. Such amazing _potential_.

And as Starscream gives his orders in his ghost-like whisper, a voice born from mangled vocalizer and years of suppressed screams, he ponders his options. "Kill them," Starscream says, and Unicron obeys without question, for he is ever-hungry and ever-eager, and though these embers are not what he hungers for, they will do for now.

But still, his mind is on the seeker watching a _real_ god do his bidding. And he dares thinks to himself, '_Perhaps_.'

* * *

><p><strong>So, yeah. I wanted to play in this verse a bit more, especially because I can't get it out of my mind. XD I've already got several little one-shots ready to be posted, and figured I should just stick them under one banner and call it done. Title for this fic comes courtesy of Google Translator, so Latin purists can either a) shut up and deal, or b) give me a proper translation. Title is supposed to translate into: 'Scream upon the devil's star.'<strong>


	2. So, This is Death

**Title:** Sidus Ad Quirito Diabolo

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Drabble #2: **_**So, This is Death**_

**Summary:** "There sits the judge and jury from whose lips has passed your judgment. Isn't he beautiful?"

**Characters: **Megatron, Unicron, Starscream

**Warnings: **bad mojo, character death

**Continuity:** Shattered Glass, major AU

**A/N:** Mmmm…because I couldn't leave Megatron's death as simplistic and vague as I did in the main fic. XD

* * *

><p>"<em>May the devil make a ladder of your backbone – while he is picking apples in the garden of Hell."<em>

_-Old Irish toast_

Megatron trembles in the grasp of this impossibly strong mech. He has never been so terrified in all his life, not even when facing down Optimus Prime – who had been as crazy as he had been cruel – but this mech…. This mech has torn through the Autobot Army as if they were mere younglings playing at war and violence and he himself the incarnation of pain given life. Perhaps, he thinks wildly to himself, that's what this mech is.

"Why?" he asks plaintively, barely managing to choke even that question out under the force of his fear. But he needs to know, needs to understand what he has done to deserve this, to deserve death. He has always strived to live a good life, has always strived to protect those weaker than himself, and when the Tyrant rose, he had done his best to prevent the Ascension. He knows it is conceited of himself, illogical and arrogant to assume that anything he has done might have prevented this – or, Primus forbid, encouraged it. His wild optics again roams across the corpses strewn haphazardly across the barren wasteland that once upon a time had been Crystal City, easily picking out friend and foe alike.

All dead. All torn into savagely and without regret or sympathy. All with facial plating frozen in silent masks of terror and pain. Optics are dull, mouths open in eternal screams that will forever be silent, but aren't because he can still hear them, desperate and begging, and his ember trembles inside his chassis. He knows. He knows what is in store for him, and it terrifies him more than any other death. Death was once nothing to be scared of – he had long ago made his peace with the fact that he was mortal, and mortals died. Such was the way of the world. He would die, peacefully or murdered, it mattered not, and he would go to join his ancestors in the Vault of Embers, and finally know the peace and serenity of being welcomed home to Primus.

That was once. This is now. Now, there stands a silver and gold mech with bone-wings and poison-green optics and savage claws and serrated teeth, and he has watched, first in barely-comprehending horror, and then in sheer mortal terror, as this mech had fed on the embers of those under his command. Good mechs, bright mechs, mechs too young, gone. Megatron instinctively knows that none of those mechs will reach the Vault of Embers. None of them will ever reach Primus' ever-loving reach. And neither will he.

"Why?" he asks again, and this impossibly strong mech chuckles, voice a grating, deeply resonant purr that he can physically feel scrape along his systems. The clawed hand around his neck tightens, strangling, cutting off vital energon lines, and he chokes. Warnings blare throughout his systems, and already he feels light-headed and dizzy. But the mech is forcibly turning his head, forcing his fuzzy gaze to…

…a seeker. _That_ seeker, to be precise, the very one he'd left in an Autobot prison because, despite his personal feelings on the matter, he hadn't had the resources to properly support and rehabilitate his _own_ troops let alone a stranger that had been so badly damaged that the mech in question most likely would never fully recover. He had had priorities, and though it had killed something in him to do it, he had. He had left the seeker to hell and torment. He still dreamed of those too-blue apathetic optics, staring at him as if seeing right through him, and how those optics had flared gold-red, the color of molten steel and fire, when he'd made his decision. He had regretted his decision later, regrets it still, and there had not been a day where he did not think of what he had condemned that seeker to.

"Look at him," that too-deep voice purrs in his audial, and so he does, vision going fuzzy, graying at the edges, but he is unable to look away. That seeker, bearing many scars, shredded wings, and too-many half-healed wounds to count, manages to sit with an air very much like a king, a _god_, surveying his domain, and his domain is this field of death that is all that remains of two full armies. The seeker's form is impassive and still; obviously not bothered by the fact that the make-shift throne he sits upon has been build out of the corpses of other mechs. The seeker is watching him, gaze burning with hate and endless, endless rage.

"There sits the judge and jury from whose lips has passed your judgment," the voice continues to purr, and those words seal for him the image his fritzing processor is building. If the mech holding him is pain incarnate, then that seeker sitting so still and calm and watching them with those eerie gold-red optics that burn, _burn_, _**burn**_ is _rage_. Rage incarnate sat before him, watching him with the same apathetic attitude that had watched as hundreds were slaughtered and fed upon.

"W-wh-why?" he manages to grind out, something in his throat cracking and crushing in ways that would have alarmed him if it weren't for the fact that he will be dead very shortly. But his vision is swirling now and the alarms blaring like the screams _still_ echoing in his audials have gained a dim, bell-like quality. _The bell tolls for us all_, he thinks madly.

"Because _you_ exist and _they_ don't," the mech holding him says, as if that is reason enough for the carnage that has taken place, as if that could possibly condone the eating of embers and the denial of paradise. But it doesn't; it _couldn't_.

But it doesn't matter. He can feel his main energon lines bursting from the pressure building up behind them, and instead of continuing to prolong his torment by asking questions that ultimately don't matter, _won't_ matter in the long run - what's done is done - he instead chooses to be thankful that it will all soon come to an end. The last thing he sees is that seeker's burning, hating gaze and the slight curl of a smile – soft but oh-so-cruel. The last thing he hears is the silver-and-gold mech's too-deep voice purring in his audio: "Isn't he beautiful?"

_Yes_, Megatron thinks sadly as he finally slides into oblivion. _Beautiful_.

* * *

><p><strong>Poor Megatron. <strong>

**This AU is actually kinda bleak, now that I stop to think about it. I may have to interject some happiness in this - because despite the material and the basic plot, there _are_ some bright spots. I'm not sure about the humorous spots yet, but I suspect I may find some buried deep within.**

**Still, please suggest some prompts or one-sentence summaries you'd like my to try and work with. I make no promises, but I will try and do my best to use them. ^^  
><strong>


	3. Perfection, Part 1

**Title:** Sidus Ad Quirito Diabolo

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Drabble #3a: **_**Perfection, Part 1**_

**Summary:** Optronix can easily picture this seeker as what he should be: Death and War and Insanity made whole and perfect.

**Characters: **Optronix a.k.a. Optimus Prime, Starscream, Starsinger (OC), Autobots, Unicron

Pairings: Optronix (OP)/Starscream, Autobots/Starscream, Optronix (OP)/Starsinger (OC), (very slight) Unicron/Starscream

**Warnings: **bad mojo, character death

**Continuity:** Shattered Glass, major AU

**A/N:**For 14FlashSteps, who gave me this prompt:

_"He had, Optimus realized in dark humor as his ember fell into darkness,__ unintentionally created the perfect weapon."_

It deviates a little from what was asked for, but not by much, so I hope it pleases. ^^ Incidentally enough, because of her prompt, I actually got around to writing the back-story for this. And here it is. XD

This will have 4-5 parts, and technically should be it's own story, but I thought I'd be neat about this 'verse for once, unlike my Beginning's 'verse, which takes up a lot of my profile page…. Lol.

* * *

><p><em>"A designer knows he has achieved perfection not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away."<em>

- Antoine de Saint-exupery

_Beautiful_, Optronix thinks silently to himself. Starscream is so achingly beautiful that it is almost pain to see the seeker.

He watches, attention caught and held by the seeker moving so assuredly through the lab, conducting only Primus-knows-what experiment. Nothing that he would be interested in, he knows. Starscream is a Crystal City seeker, and unlike their Vosnian cousins, they resented war and everything to do with it. Starscream is the heir to Starsinger, and will one day rule over Crystal City; he is unlikely to be any different than his sire in his dedication to peace.

It is such a waste, Optronix knows. He can easily see this beauty bathed in the rich energon of his enemies, the war-mad optics so distinctive to the Vosnian seekers glowing bright on facial painting that would be black instead of white. He can so easily picture that beyond-genius processor turning its attentions towards weapons designs and chemical warfare. He can picture this seeker as what he should be: Death and War and Insanity made whole and perfect.

Unbidden, Optronix places his hand on the glass separating him from Starscream, the black armor of the digits startling when compared against the almost-blinding white of Starscream's plating. When Starscream looks up at him with a questioning smile on his lips, curiosity in those sickeningly-blue optics, he can't help but smile. _Soon, _he thinks._ Soon I'll have you, little seeker._

Until then, there are plans to complete, fellows to recruit, and a seeker to seduce.

* * *

><p>He takes his time, courting the leader of Crystal City with patient words and delicate touches. Starsinger is in mourning, has been in mourning for most of Starscream's life, Optronix knows. The loss of his mate has all but crippled the seeker lord, but that is more than alright. Optronix doubts a fully-aware mech of any build would have been so blind to the chaos that laid in wait within his ember, which is one of the main reasons he does not attempt to seduce Starscream directly.<p>

It would do no good, not with that one. There is something different about Starscream, something that leaves Optronix both wanting and wary. It is a faint whisper, an intangible plea at the corner of his awareness, an inherent defect or mutation never noticed. Optronix wonders about it, but does not tempt fate. He would have the seeker soon enough, and until then, he will play matters safe and will go for the sire instead.

For although Starsinger is barely clinging to sanity, he is still somewhat pleasing to the optic, and exceptionally intelligent. It is such a pity he will have to die.

* * *

><p>He meets in secret, coaxing his fellow mechs into seeing his dream, twisting their hurts and grievances into something dark and twisted, gloating when they turn around and simply add to his vision. Eventually he will not need to meet in secret to feel out potentials; they will come to him, they will seek him out, and they will – of their own volition – raise him up as their leader and the standard to which they should all be held.<p>

There are days where he is both sickened by their useless predictability, and bemused by how _simple_ it all is. Nearly twelve million vorns of peace, and it will only take _half of a_ _single vorn_ to convince most of the populace that what they really needed was war. He knows that from there it will not be hard to convince them to take his war to the stars.

For now though, he enjoys the luxuries his 'intended' showers him with, so pathetically grateful for the attention Optronix has shown him that the aging seeker will do practically anything for Optronix. He has already used this to great effect – through Starsinger, he is able to weasel his way into the Forbidden Archives. He does not know what, exactly, he is searching for, but he knows he will find it there.

* * *

><p>He meets his soon-to-be step-creation officially two cycles after the official engagement. Starscream is …well. Suspicious comes to mind, as does discreetly hostile. Starsinger is blind, but not stupid, and notices his only living creation's disdain for the match as surely as he does not notice that he is being played. Optronix can see the older seeker's hurt in his dropping wings and soft, wheedling voice asking piteously "Why can't you be happy for me? Am I meant to grieve for the rest of my life?" To which the younger seeker replies with nothing but contemptuous silence.<p>

Optronix is unsure about how to deal with this. He had assumed that the pacifistic tendencies of the sire had been passed down to the creation, and while to some extent that is true, there is some degree of cruelty in Starscream that Starsinger does not possess. He wonders at it, just as he wonders as to how he should respond. As the potential bond-mate of Starsinger, and soon-to-be adoptive-creator of Starscream, he should put his pede down and enforce respect – if not towards Starsinger, then at least towards himself – but on the other hand…

….On the other hand, while there is nothing but disdain and contempt in Starscream's optics when he gazes at his sire, there is nothing of the sort in his optics when he gazes at Optronix. There is curiosity and fascination and sheer possessive anger that is as intriguing as it is disturbing. He has never officially met the seeker, and though he has been watching Starscream for many cycles, Starscream himself has only caught him at it once.

But then, that one has always been special, hasn't he?

And really, why should he protest this sudden change in events? So what if Starscream considered Starsinger beneath his notice? Optronix wasn't really intending on bonding the feeble seeker anyway. And so what if Starscream made readily apparent that he would allow no other to touch Optronix's ember but himself? Sure, it disrupted some of his plans, but it also sped up the grand majority of them, and really, why should he wait? Starscream wanted him and he wanted Starscream.

It was such a pity that he forgot one key point. After all, a moment of cruelty over the potential loss of a desired mate was to be expected from any flight-build, regardless of their otherwise natural, typical inclinations. That Starsinger did not respond in the defensive towards Starscream's aggressions was the main reason why he lost, and why no other seeker said a word in denial.

But momentary aggression and cruelty did not mean that Starscream was any less a pacifist.

* * *

><p><strong>So, yes, I have been writing. Most of it I'm ashamed to even admit came from my head, and will consequently not be posted, but some of it I'm working on polishing up to post. I've pretty much decided to screw setting deadlines for myself, as I never keep them, and I'm tired of disappointing you guys when I promise a chapter of something and don't deliver. <strong>

**As for this particular installment, I hope it doesn't disappoint. I've planned another three side-stories to Diabolicae Foedus, one of which will "officially" end the series - although I will continue to update this as I get prompts and ideas (*hint*).Review?  
><strong>


	4. Perfection, Part 2

**Title:** Sidus Ad Quirito Diabolo

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Drabble #3b: _Perfection, Part 2_**

**Summary:** Optronix can easily picture this seeker as what he should be: Death and War and Insanity made whole and perfect.

**Characters: **Optronix a.k.a. Optimus Prime, Starscream, Starsinger (OC), Autobots, Unicron

**Pairings:** Optronix (OP)/Starscream, Autobots/Starscream, Optronix (OP)/Starsinger (OC), (very slight) Unicron/Starscream

**Warnings: **bad mojo, character death

**Continuity:** Shattered Glass, major AU

**A/N:**For 14FlashSteps, who gave me this prompt:

_"He had, Optimus realized in dark humor as his ember fell into darkness, unintentionally created the perfect weapon."_

This is part 2 of 4 (or 5, depending), and things are starting to heat up. ^^ The really interesting bits are actually in the next section, but this leads up nicely to it, so I hope you guys don't mind so much. Didn't get much response towards the first section, so I have no idea if you guys even like this so far. Not that it matters – I'm going to write it regardless. XD

And I'm really glad you like this 14FlashSteps. I really liked the prompt, and it obviously liked me back. ^^ Hope you continue to enjoy this!

* * *

><p>"<em>Advance, and never halt, for advancing is perfection. Advance and do not fear the thorns in the path, for they draw only corrupt blood."<em>  
>-Khalil Gibran<p>

Optronix proceeds very carefully. He cannot afford to drive off Starscream, not at this stage in his plans. He woos the young seeker twice as carefully as he did the sire, and spends much time in the archives researching the things Starscream is interested in so that they can have true conversations. He doesn't always succeed, and he has the distinct impression that Starscream is vastly amused by his attempts, but the attempt _has_ been made and Starscream is appropriately appreciative.

He had thought once that he would not be enthusiastic about Starscream's scientific pursuits, and now knows he had been very wrong. Over the course of his research, he has discovered that without rigid morals and ethical coding, Starscream's research and projects could be so easily be perverted and used for ill-gain that he spends many cycles alone just laughing at how easy it was all turning out to be.

He wonders at the study of contradictions he finds in his little beloved, and looks forward to the day that enticing puzzle is attached permanently to his own ember.

* * *

><p>Starscream does not send him extravagant gifts as Starsinger had; no, Starscream's gifts were of a more subtle, useful nature. Though he has not said much of anything about his goals for Cybertron, and the universe afterwards, he suspects that Starscream knows enough to guess the sorts of mechs he needs to get in contact with to build his support base and command team.<p>

He meets Starscream's associates, peers, and mentors at both the Crystal City Academy of Learning and the Iacon Institute of the Sciences. Ratchet is a medic with a sharp tongue and a sadistic streak that is only barely hidden – and tolerated – by his sheer brilliance at his job. Prowl is the security director of the whole of Iacon who has little-to-no emotional programming whatsoever and enough ruthlessness to cause multiple inquiries on whether or not his actions were completely necessary, and who has an office based in the Institute and occasionally can be convinced to give lectures on Tactics. Jazz, Prowl's bond-mate, is an apparently easy-going, fun-loving mech who acts as friend and councilor to almost every mech that comes through the Institute's doors, but behind that friendly persona is a mech who has no concept of right and wrong and a processor that does not stop planning such casually cruel pranks that have so much potential for becoming deadly. Skyfire is a teacher at the Academy with a memory that is spot-on perfect and who had coached and inspired Starscream into pursuing a career in the Sciences; Skyfire is a shuttle-class flier with a casual, sociopathic nature that is almost alarming to see, especially when the shuttle makes it subtlety clear that he considers Starscream his, and not Optronix's.

It is a threat that will not be tolerated for long, but Optronix can and will be patient. Starscream obviously has already made his choice – he can afford to do nothing about Skyfire until Starscream was his in entirety.

Because of these mech's natures and the perfection with which they fit into his plans, he never once considers that the mechs he meets with are high enough in Cybertronian society that becoming their acquaintance would ease his own way into handling the responsibilities that would come with being the bond-mate of a seeker lord. He never once considers that Starscream hasn't guessed at his agenda, that in fact Starscream is quite oblivious to his desires, and is only doing what must be done to ensure a smooth transition for them both.

It is an oversight that he comes to regret as surely as he comes to hate his seeker.

* * *

><p>The first time Starscream brings up the possibility of a casual merge, Optronix is both alarmed and pleased. He is pleased because he wants the seeker, has been craving him for far too long already, and a casual merge will do much in satiating that hunger. He is alarmed because Starscream is not quite ready to know the full agenda, regardless of how much he may have guessed already, and even a casual merge would allow no half-truths or lies between them.<p>

Starscream would know _everything_, and he was not ready for that yet. Even if the seeker could handle the truth of Optronix's goals for Cybertron, the image of just _what_he wants to mold Starscream into would be enough to scare him off. Optronix can't risk losing Starscream; he is already so entwined with the seeker that he thinks he will go mad if Starscream ever left. He hadn't mean for things to progress that far, but he also had made no move to stop them either, and that scares him the most in the deepest recesses of his ember.

That Starscream has already become so much of his reason for living is half the reason he denies the seeker the merge he so desperately wants. Until he can maneuver things into going the way they need to, he will not risk any chance of losing the seeker.

* * *

><p>Starscream is disappointed and displeased, and there is an unbearable silence between them that is slowly driving Optronix mad. He dotes on the seeker, sending him gifts and apologies and platitudes, but nothing seems to thaw the ice that is steadily growing in those too-blue optics. He is desperate now, wanting nothing more than to simply hear a single word from his seeker's mouth, but there is nothing for him.<p>

Starscream does not argue, wheedle, negotiate, or beg for what he wants, as Optronix is rapidly discovering. Though Starscream is normally a gentle, passive being more than capable of a level of generosity and empathy that belies his station in society, he is still nonetheless the only heir of a very rich and influential seeker lord, and will one day be the ruler of an entire people – he is stubborn and spoiled and very used to getting what he wants, when he wants it. And, apparently, Starscream wanted him, not just to talk to or to share kisses and cuddles, but in entirety; Starscream wanted to _know_ Optronix on the deepest level, and it was rapidly becoming an ultimatum in their relationship. Either Optronix gave in and allowed Starscream to do as he willed or they were over.

So he thinks over his options very carefully, never once considering leaving the seeker – their separation will never happen, he won't allow it. Eventually, he finds himself in Ratchet's office, quietly explaining the situation and seeking advice he doesn't even really know how to ask for. Ratchet, thankfully, understands only too well what he wants.

"It's not possible to block information in a merge without leaving your partner very aware that there is something being blocked – which defeats the whole purpose of a merge anyway," the medic says brusquely. "The only hope you have is that your seeker is inexperienced when it comes to merges of this nature, as – _if_ he's inexperienced – it will take him several merges to learn how to sift through the data feeds. Considering that he's the one who suggested it, and the one determining that this relationship will go no further until it happens, I'd say you are completely out of luck." The medic grins unrepentantly and shoves him out the door.

But just before he closes the door in Optronix's face, he pauses, expression thoughtful. "Perhaps," he says slowly, unsurely, "you should go talk to Prowl." There is a moment of silence, and then even quieter, "I never told you to talk to him." And then Optronix is staring at a door, a million thoughts spinning through his processor.

* * *

><p>Prowl stays silent and still throughout Optronix's explanation, staring thoughtfully out the window where both mechs could clearly see Jazz and a group of scientists that Optronix has mentioned once or twice before that he'd like to recruit, if at all possible. There is a long moment of silence between them, but Optronix is a patient mech. He can wait.<p>

Eventually, Prowl's completely monotonous tone break's the silence. "Love, passion, and obsession do strange things to an otherwise rational mech, Optronix. A rational mech begins to latch onto signs of behavior and beliefs that aren't actually there, and he can be blinded by what he wants as opposed to what actually is." Prowl goes silent for a bit, before continuing blithely, "Are you _certain_ that this seeker is like us? Or do you simply _wish_ him to be?"

Optronix feels anger bubbling beneath his calm exterior – how _dare_this mech question Starscream so? – but three things stop him from lashing out. The first is that Prowl has unknowingly repeated doubts he himself had about what he has so far observed in regards to Starscream's behaviors and actions. The second is that the strength of his reaction to Prowl's words tell him he was in too deep to give any opinion not already tainted by his feelings for the seeker. The third is the knowledge that, for as powerful and ruthless as Prowl was, Jazz was even worse because the only thing standing in the way of Jazz was Prowl himself.

So he says nothing, merely concentrates on calming his sudden anger. This is apparently the right answer to a test he hadn't even known he was being given, because Prowl suddenly smiles and slides a thin disk across the desk. "Take it," he says, still not looking at Optronix.

Optronix does so. "What is it?" he asks, fingering the small, fragile metal in his hand.

"It contains a small virus of sorts. It distorts the natural behaviors and thought processes of a mech, leaves them open to suggestion and manipulation." The smile slips off his face as if it was never there, and, finally, Prowl's dead stare leaves Jazz and focuses on Optronix. "An otherwise rational mech, blinded by his obsession, may mistakenly believe that he has found the one perfectly suited for his own personal brand of madness, but a smart mech can find that this virus will ensure that he is never proven wrong."

Optronix was not a genius, but he wasn't stupid either. He was remarkably intelligent, in fact, and very capable of reading between the lines. Many mechs wondered how Prowl had convinced the friendly, amiable Jazz into merging with him, let alone bonding, and now he knew. Prowl's ruthlessness was to be both envied and feared. He made a mental note, and left.

He did not give thanks. He did not have to.

* * *

><p>Though Prowl's silent warning echoes repeatedly through his thoughts, Optronix decides to let their first merge determine whether or not he will actually need the virus. He shouldn't, he knows, but he cannot help but hope that Starscream was truly his. Once he has made his decision, he is almost too eager to join his ember with Starscream's; the aching want that he has been denying for many cycles now demandingly obvious.<p>

Unfortunately for this not-quite-subtle ache, it takes even longer to coax Starscream into even _speaking_ to him, let alone merging with him. His seeker's eyes are artic cold and without any sign of even exasperated affection, and there is a certain decisive determination to the tilt of his wings that leaves Optronix wary. But he has a purpose, and so he forges ahead, telling lies and partial truths about why he has denied Starscream such a simple thing. By the end of his prepared speech, Starscream is still staring coldly at him, saying nothing, mouth a grim line.

"I love you, you aft" Optronix grinds out forcefully after a long moment of silence, more than a bit angry that all his careful preparation has amounted to nothing. Surprisingly, this works where nothing else has, and while the seeker still doesn't say anything, the ice in his gaze thaws and there is a small, smug smile curling gently at his lips.

A thin, delicately-plated hand stretches out and gently touches the back of Optronix's more heavily-armored and much larger hand, and lingers too long to be anything but a caress. There are no words exchanged, no discreet messages sent over comms, but nevertheless Optronix catches Starscream's meaning perfectly clear.

Tonight.

* * *

><p><strong>Ah, so I'm a mean little stinker, aren't I? I did this deliberately, as the merge is what sparks the point where everything starts going wrong. It's also the point where Optronix –rational, if a bit mad and completely helm-over-pedes for Starscream – starts to become Optimus Prime – a mad-mech who desires Starscream as much as he hates and fears him, and could care less if the seeker was agreeable to anything he does. Unicron won't show up until part 4 (or 5, depending), and that's when the shit will really hit the fan. XD<strong>

**I'm hoping that the dynamics between Starscream and Optronix are coming across right – I was reading over Diabolicae Foedus, and I think I may have made him out to be too much of a victim. Yes, he had horrible things happen to him, and yes, those horrible things were so horrible and so out of proportion to his faults that the fact that he eventually goes completely off the deep end is not only justifiable, but probably necessary – but there is still the fact that if it were not for his choices and his faults, a lot of things could have actually been prevented. As you'll see in the next portion of Perfection. Starscream is not a perfect being, as much as it galls me to admit it, and Shattered Glass Screamer even less so. There is also no such thing as a complete pacifist – even the most saintly person has their moments of cruelty and aggression. **

**Review?  
><strong>


	5. Perfection, Part 3

**Title:** Sidus Ad Quirito Diabolo

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Drabble #3c: _Perfection, Part 3_**

**Summary:** Optronix can easily picture this seeker as what he should be: Death and War and Insanity made whole and perfect.

**Characters: **Optronix a.k.a. Optimus Prime, Starscream, Starsinger (OC), Autobots, Unicron

**Pairings:** Optronix (OP)/Starscream, Autobots/Starscream, Optronix (OP)/Starsinger (OC), (very slight) Unicron/Starscream

**Warnings: **bad mojo, character death, graphic (and semi-graphic) sex, violence

**Continuity:** Shattered Glass, major AU

**A/N: **For 14FlashSteps, who gave me this prompt:

_"He had, Optimus realized in dark humor as his ember fell into darkness, unintentionally created the perfect weapon."_

This is part 3 of 4 (I've finally decided), and mmm…is this good. I personally think this is my favorite of the sections so far, though I'm sure that feeling will change with the last installment. Just a warning to others: there is some very heavy petting in this one. …Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"<em>Perfection is finality. Finality is death."<em>  
>- William Ellery Channing<p>

Optronix has much to do and no time with which to do it. He feels rushed and harried, alarmed and eager – so very, _very_ eager – and everything rushes by his normally focused attention. He meets with mechs he cannot recognize despite the fact that he knows them well, he speaks words he cannot hear and suspects are not what he wishes to say, and he paces for hours on end thinking himself deeper into something close to panic. His thoughts spin within his processor, so focused on what is to come _later_ that he cannot process the _now_. He burns with want and need and thinks that it is a very good thing that he has already admitted to himself that he is so completely in love with his seeker, because otherwise he might have thought himself mad.

But despite his desire and his almost optimistic hope that Starscream _is_ his, there is still Prowl's warning echoing silently in the back of his mind, a quiet void from which springs doubt and reason and whispers of the guarantee which has been so thoughtfully provided to him. He listens to the whispers for awhile, fingering the disk on which the virus rested, and almost gives in. It would be so _easy_, and he would never have to _know_.

But, no. He has to know, even though he suspects that it will hurt him, even though he suspects that his perception has been made faulty through blind hope and ember-deep obsession.

* * *

><p>He is almost finished waxing his frame, determined to be presentable for his little beloved, when the comm. comes through. He ignores it at first, but whoever it is seems to be most insistent. He snarls, angry that he has been interrupted, and opens the comm.-link, prepared to give the mech on the other end hell. His thoughts and anger break before he can even get the first syllable out of his vocalizer as his seeker's smooth voice speaks.<p>

"Something came up – an engagement that I can not break free from. Care to join me?" There is genuine regret in the seeker's voice, but also a hint of teasing.

Optronix does not even think about it. "Of course," he murmurs. "Where am I meeting you?"

"My sire's place," Starscream answers. "It seems my cousins have finally graduated the Academy, and Starsinger is determined they will have a grand party to celebrate." There is an indication of irritation in the voice, and Optronix does not need to guess why. He knows enough of Starscream's personal history to know that there is little love between Starscream and his family. Starscream has practically raised himself; the only real interaction that he's had over the years with his kin being exchanges of material goods and the credits to do whatever he willed.

There are a number of things Optronix could say, each more violent than the last, but instead all he says is a simple, "I'll meet you soon."

There is a sigh of relief over the line, and a quiet "Thank you," followed by the dead silence of a closed line.

* * *

><p>They meet as they always do: soft smiles and gentle touches and a sweet, lingering kiss that never once gives note on what will happen later. They are not alone, after all, and both mechs are exceptionally private individuals. What will come later is meant for them alone, and none other. Still, their smiles are a bit too knowing, their touches linger a tad too long to be anything but promising, and their kiss is perhaps too short for the heat within their optics. Optronix is aware of the pleased smiles and gentle teasing of the crowds, but it is a distant awareness at best. He is so focused on the blue of his little beloved's optics, the gentle hum of systems healthy, whole, and pleased, and the heat that radiates off the seeker's frame to really much care that almost anyone who looks at them can tell that tonight will be their first night together.<p>

"You polished," Starscream murmurs, running a delicate hand over Optronix's chassis.

"Yes," Optronix rumbles. He fingers a wing, delicately, gently, not wanting to hurt the fragile being in his arms with his superior strength. _Only for this one_, he thinks to himself.

Starscream smiles up at him, optics darkening slightly, the mechanisms within narrowing, sharpening, honing in on him the way only a seeker's can. "It will only get messed later," he warns, _promises_, voice a taunting assurance.

And can Optronix help it when his engine revs so loudly? "You little tease," he hisses, knowing that they still had several jors before they could reasonably escape the party.

Starscream laughs at him, voice husky and deep in a way Optronix has never heard before. "Not teasing," the seeker purrs at him. "Promising." And then the seeker is pulling away, still smiling, optics still dark and heated and intense, and every line of his body promising wicked things.

Optronix follows his seeker with his optics like a starving mech following a cube of energon, drowning in the sights of his seeker interacting with his frame-kin and the peers of his cousins. He watches as Starscream skillfully avoids his family with a familiarity and grace that bore signs of long practice. He watches as younglings, barely old enough to be walking around, let alone doing so unsupervised, crowd around his little beloved with obvious glee, demanding sweets and attention that Starscream is only too happy to give. He watches as other mechs, other seekers, attempts to flirt with his seeker only to find themselves ignored. He watches as every now and then Starscream looks over in his general direction, as if needing assurance that he is not alone.

Eventually, one of the mechs gets a little too forward for Optronix's taste, and so he moves swiftly forward through the thick crowd, most of whom are completely trashed, so that he can place a possessive grip on his seeker's waist and pull, bringing Starscream flush against his larger body in a clear display of ownership that only the blind would have trouble understanding. He says nothing; Starscream's shivering form pressing eagerly back into his body in clear submission says everything. The other mech takes one look at them and leaves. Hurriedly.

"I think," Optronix rumbles, grip tightening, "that we've been here long enough."

Starscream laughs. "Honestly, I thought you'd drag me off much earlier than this." He peers up at Optronix, smile turning sly and voice growing heated. "What took you so long, anyway?"

Optronix smiles, but does not answer. Instead, he leads his seeker out of Starsinger's domain, and towards his own.

* * *

><p>They fall together onto his berth, a messy tangle of limbs and moans and <em>oh sweet Primus<em> is it good. He feels irresponsibly young, as if this is his first ever merge and his creators could walk in at any moment. There is just something that feels forbidden about this whole thing, something that Optronix cannot quite place, but suspects that it is hidden away within his seeker's superior, burning gaze and purring, wicked words that are murmured _just so_ against his audials. Fingers reach within armor-seams to find hot spots he did not even know he had, teasing him to the point of almost-agony and he is helpless. Completely and totally helpless and at the mercy of the wicked seeker perched atop him as if that is his natural place to be.

This isn't how Optronix had imagined it – he had always dreamed that _he_ would be the one to drive _Starscream_ mad with desire – but he cannot find it in him to care. He's enjoying this too much to care, really.

Delicate hands leave his seams and trail down his body, leaving burning trails in their wake that Optronix can feel long after all touches have stopped. He doesn't understand why Starscream is suddenly having this effect on him; but even that thought does flying out the window when Starscream coaxes his interfacing panel open and teases his spike into full pressurization. His engines are full out roaring, his vision greys, and for a moment all he can hear is full-out white noise; the feeling of that delicate hand touching him so –!

He comes too after several long moments in which no movement is made at all, pleasure still burning through his systems, searching for that peak he is being so cruelly denied, only to meet his seeker's burning gaze. Starscream is poised above him, his own panel open and valve bared, seal still noticeably intact but nonetheless leaking profusely, one hand simply holding Optronix's spike and the other lingering beside Optronix's left hip, bracing his weight on the berth. Starscream's optics are watching him steadily, burning, _burning_ with a heat that is only matched by the inferno that is roaring in Optronix's ember.

"You love me," Starscream says.

It is not a question, but Optronix treats the statement as if it is. "Yes," he manages to get out after several tries, his vocalizer almost completely locked up under the pressure building in his systems.

Starscream's helm cocks, optics studying him intently. "You will keep me?"

This is a question, but the answer is no different, and never could be. Even if he did not love the seeker, he would _never_ let Starscream go. "Always," he says, and for some reason he feels that this is more a threat than a promise, but Starscream apparently is satisfied regardless.

With one last long, considering look, Starscream visibly tenses before moving his whole body down; in one smooth movement Starscream swiftly breaks his seal and plunging Optronix's spike into the hottest, tightest void in which he's ever been in. Optronix is reduced to his base programming in the same click – thoughts are gone, reason is gone, all that is left is the valve clutching his spike as if it was _made_ for it and the impassioned cries of the seeker the valve was attached to. His hands find purchase on slim hips and clench, drawing forth a small, slightly pained cry; his pedes scramble and eventually are able to brace themselves on the berth, the slight shift in position forcing his spike deeper into the seeker's valve.

And then he moves. The seeker leans his back against the support offered by Optronix's bent legs and moves with him. They establish an easy rhythm at first – even with his whole world narrowed down on the feeling of his spike and _that_ _valve_, he is conscious of his partner's inexperience with this. He moves the seeker up and down, slowly, slowly, ever-gentle.

But it isn't enough, not for him, and he can easily tell by the frustrated, jerking movements of Starscream's hips that it isn't enough for him either. He picks up the pace, hands having no trouble lifting the seeker's weight repeatedly. His optics drink in the sight of Starscream taking him in eagerly, wantonly, mouth opening and closing as if trying to say something but unable to make noise, hands flitting about as if unable to decide where he wants them, wings quivering and trembling and beating a discordant rhythm against Optronix's legs, fans roaring as they try desperately to fend off the impending system overload.

Starscream's canopy recedes into his body, cockpit splitting down the center, and there before Optronix's greedy gaze is the seeker's ember, bared and beautiful.

So beautiful. So achingly beautiful. And all _his_.

Grinning, his own chassis splits and bares his own wildly spinning ember. He thrusts deep and hard, harder than he has yet, and Starscream shrieks, optics flaring white as his systems finally surrenders to the overload that's been hanging just beyond reach. Optronix wastes no time and thrusts his upper body forward even as his hands leave those delectable hips, finds purchase on his upper back, and pulls Starscream down, down, down until they're connected.

* * *

><p>He comes to slowly, systems aching in way that tells him that his overload had not just been good, but one of the best he's ever had, and a goofy grin settles across his face. Like almost every other time he's overloaded, his systems are a little slow to wake, but that's okay. He feels almost euphoric, and can only conclude that everything went well; why else would he be feeling so <em>happy<em>?

But there is also a lingering edge of doubt, because he doesn't feel Starscream in the berth with him, doesn't feel Starscream's energy-field anywhere in the room, actually, and there is a funny little feeling in his processor that says something isn't right. As his systems finally start to really wake, he notes other things: he is strangely exhausted, impossibly euphoric, thoughts cloudy and unable to think, and he's starting to become more than a bit nauseous. Drugged, he finally concludes.

And then it really hits him.

Starscream _drugged_ him. Starscream _left_. He racks his processor, struggling to remember their merge – what had been revealed? – but the drugs are too potent, and his thoughts slips back and slides through his processor with no control of his own.

* * *

><p>He paces for days on end, back and forth, back and forth, thinking, and waiting. He waits for guards screaming for his arrest, he waits for news of his tentative chain of command to disappear, he waits and waits and thinks. Nothing happens, and though he still can not recall everything he had learned from their merge, he does remember enough to know that Starscream knew more than Optronix had ever wanted him to. Starscream knows what Optronix is planning, knows what Optronix had planned for <em>him<em>, knows about the virus and about every little crime Optronix has ever committed.

And yet, nothing. Days pass in silence, and he thinks, pushing his processors to their limits trying to recall every detail, every thought revealed during their merge. He finally remembers the disgust and fear Starscream had felt, but he also recalls the love and the self-hatred – despite what Starscream had seen, the seeker still loved him and hated him for it. As the days slip pass and his spies tell him that Starscream has returned to the Iacon Institute of the Sciences – quieter, unhappy, and colder than ice – he realizes that the guards are never coming. Starscream is going to pretend he never knew Optronix, is going to attempt to _forget_ about him.

It makes Optronix want to laugh and cry at the same time, but he can't. His ember is numb, so numb, so _different_ from the usual burning that he knows Starscream's rejection has broken something inside of him. He wishes that he could hate the seeker, wishes he could find it in himself to hunt Starscream down and make him suffer, but he cannot blame the seeker.

Prowl had warned him; his own common sense had warned him. And, really, what had he expected? Even if something in Starscream had been receptive to his desires for Cybertron, there is still too much holding the seeker back. His sense of duty towards his people, his lingering affection for various mechs that Optronix would have to kill to get his way, his rigid faith in Primus, and his desire for self-control. And there-in lays the worst of the problem: Starscream will never consent of his own will to what Optronix wants.

He eyes the virus lying so innocently on the table, and despite the fog within his ember, he knows that Starscream will be his. Though he will never forget, and he's beginning to think he will never forgive, either. He picks up the disk, and – never once hesitating – opens his chassis and places it in the data-drive closest to his ember.

He barely has time to consider who, exactly, had given him the virus before his world goes black.

* * *

><p>"Well, now," he purrs into his frightened seeker's audials. "Isn't <em>this<em> quite the predicament?"

He stands behind his once-beloved, pressed as close as he had been once in the distant past, and just as before, Starscream shivers and presses back against him. Feelings such as the type they had once for each other are incapable of leaving a mech's processor completely – it is likely that Optimus could do anything and everything to Starscream, and still the seeker would subconsciously respond to him as if nothing had ever happened. It delights Optimus, even as it enrages him.

He did not want to resort to this, as some part of him still longed for Starscream bound to him willingly, but Starscream had proven to be a far better master of himself than Optronix had ever been. Unlike his past-self, Starscream had fought off the virus before it had managed to do any lasting damage, had shut it down and picked apart the coding to add to his already considerable firewalls so that Optimus or Prowl could never do such a thing to him again.

Optimus does not blame Prowl for what he did. Optimus can see why it was necessary: as far as Optronix had gotten, he had still been an emotionally weak mech who had bordered on madness. Optronix had been an intellectual playing games, setting up the board as if his future was something to be so easily controlled and predicted. As Optimus Prime, he is not only smart but brilliant in his own way, insane to the point of genius, capable of not only setting the board but destroying it if need be. Optimus is willing to go so much farther than Optronix ever could, and that is why he knows that there is another way besides the virus to bring Starscream to him.

After all, grief, sorrow, and pain did strange things to a mech. It will be a hollow victory, but it will be victory all the same, and Optimus is pleased.

"You have one last chance," he murmurs, heavily armored and much larger hand stroking up and down Starscream's canopy in a mockery of a caress. "Join me, Starscream."

"I..." Starscream's vocalizer whines, grinding under the force of his fear and unwanted arousal. "I can't; I won't!" he manages to force out.

It is the wrong answer, but one that Optimus has seen coming. He gives no warning, simply tightens his grip on the seeker's canopy until the fragile glass shatters, gold-orange pieces tinkling merrily against the floor even as his seeker bucks and screams at the pain. "Very well," he says, voice bland and disinterested. He brings the seeker to the window, one hand clamped inside of the seeker's cockpit, grinding glass into the delicate arrays, uncaring of the energon that is staining his hand or the damage he is causing.

"I will burn your world to ashes," he whispers softly in Starscream's audials, other hand trailing up and teasing a wing gently. "I will take your ember and break it; piece by pitiful piece until you have nothing but a void to cling to in the madness of your own mind. I will torture your body until you know nothing but pain and agony and wish to beg for the release death could bring you but I will deny, over and over again simply because I can." He tightens his grip on the wing in his hand and pulls, easily ripping off the appendage and tossing it over the side.

Starscream howls again, but Optimus is no longer listening. He is staring down and out the window, looking at the rows upon rows of mechs willing to die to do his bidding. They are all wearing lustful looks as they watch the spectacle Starscream is unknowingly creating – the delicate seeker frame covered in energon writhing and gasping and screaming. It is a powerfully arousing image, especially to the bunch of sadists he has personally cultivated and promoted to his chain of command and who, naturally, stand closest to the view.

He smiles. He will do all of which he has promised and more, and at the end of it, Starscream will be nothing more than a broken toy he will mold to his will. He glances at his little not-beloved and his smile turns vicious. He will have his weapon, his beautifully mad puppet, even if it kills him.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry about the wait. Just finally recovered from Easter with my relatives – what a damn nightmare. Lol.<strong>

**Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this latest installment. As you can tell, I had fun with this one. XD I've decided that there will be only 4 parts to this – the next installment will cover the destruction of Crystal City and Vos, Starscream's various tortures, and will end with the arrival of Unicron. I won't be able to update for a little bit though – I've got a research paper to do for college, and as it is 33% of my grade, I'd like to concentrate fully on it …if I can. XD**

**Sorry for not personally answering any reviews, but again, been busy. (And the fact that my internet apparently doesn't like whatever coding FFnet uses for the review replies, because everything is constantly going wonky when I do try and use it…) I'm really grateful to everyone who has reviewed, and really appreciate the comments left. They make me smile. : ) **

**Hope everyone had a great Easter/Spring Break (for some)/ weekend off, and I'll see you next time, yes?**

…**Review? XD**


	6. Perfection, Part 4

**Title:** Sidus Ad Quirito Diabolo

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Drabble #3d: _Perfection, Part 4_**

**Summary:** Optronix can easily picture this seeker as what he should be: Death and War and Insanity made whole and perfect.

**Characters: **Optronix a.k.a. Optimus Prime, Starscream, Starsinger (OC), Autobots, Unicron

**Pairings:** Optronix (OP)/Starscream, Autobots/Starscream, Optronix (OP)/Starsinger (OC), (very slight) Unicron/Starscream

**Warnings: **bad mojo, character death, graphic (and semi-graphic) sex, violence, mentions of violence and rape towards younglings

**Continuity:** Shattered Glass, major AU

**A/N: **For 14FlashSteps, who gave me this prompt:

_"He had, Optimus realized in dark humor as his ember fell into darkness, unintentionally created the perfect weapon."_

This is part 4 of 4, and I personally think this is definitely my favorite of the sections. Just a warning to others: there is some mentions of disturbing events in this section, more so than the others. This section is pretty much Optimus Prime's version of events during Diabolicae Foedus. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"<em>So much perfection argues rottenness somewhere."<em>

- Beatrice Potter

Fire.

Crimson flames consume everything in their path, spewing sparks that burn more brilliantly than he had ever imagined they could. The crystal of the so-far untouched buildings in the far distance reflect the raging fire where once it had reflected the light of the morning sun. The firs rains down from the sky like divine judgment, and he glories in the irony. Artillery fire can be heard over the sound of the explosions and the roar of the inferno, and above it all he can hear the sound of laughter, mad and gleeful.

His troops are having fun. He smiles and watches gleefully as the aptly-named Crystal City burns before him. He stands behind his little once-beloved who is held down on his knees by Optimus' cruel grip on the seeker's already shredded wings. He occasionally digs his claws deeper into the frayed metal, ripping the gruesome wounds open even further, just to hear the seeker's agonized wail.

From the conflagration rises a thin, desperate wail before it is abruptly cut off. There is relative silence for a moment – he grins knowingly – before the screams rise in echoing crescendo, a multitude of howling voices crying out in pain and horror and supplication, begging to be spared, to be saved. Optimus knows that his men will spare precious few, and even then, those few will only be spared to teach his little not-beloved a lesson tomorrow. The seeker in his grasp trembles, fluids leaking from his agonized optics, and this makes him happy.

He must break the seeker, completely and totally, if he is to mold the seeker into what he wants the creature to be. The burning of the seeker's precious city is only the first step.

* * *

><p>Ash is thick in the air, and there still lingers small remnants of the inferno he had called into being. His army, the army that by the laws of Cybertron should not even exist, surrounds a small group of terrified seekers, all of whom are stained with the ash and soot of their precious city and the energon of their fellow seekers. He smiles at them all as he positions their Lord's only heir in front of them, the small-by-comparison seeker keening weakly as he is moved. Optimus Prime has declared war last night, and while he knows those seekers still alive understand that, he also knows that they do not understand just what he has declared war <em>on<em>.

His hands caress Starscream's helm, gently, soothingly, deliberately adding a touch cruel kindness to the horrors he forces the trembling seeker to watch. One by one he bids the survivors to be brought before the seeker, and one by one he forces Starscream to watch as his people are tortured, raped, and murdered before him. One by one he meets the gazes of these condemned seekers and thinks quietly: _He chose you over me. So you must be removed from the equation. _

He is proud of his band of psychopaths and sadists, as each death is crueler and more twisted than the last, each one a truly inspired artwork of pain. He listens to the seeker in his grasp as he prays to Primus, begging the slumbering god to stop this madness, to save at least one of them. Optimus' smile grows larger and crueler as with each death the seeker grows quieter and meeker, until finally he watches in complete silence.

When they are all dead, their corpses grayed and optics dark, he orders his army to ransack the ruins of the city. They do so with little prompting, delightedly searching every corner in the ashes, probing the foundations of every building that once stood, and poking around in every cubbyhole that still lingered, occasionally taking time out to defile the dead. He watches their progress, but most of his attention is on the seeker, whose frantic gaze and fervent prayers tell him that Starscream knows exactly what his mechs are searching for.

The seeker's prayers will go unanswered. It's only a matter of time, after all, before he finds the crèches and completely eradicates Starscream's frame-kin from existence. And after that, he thinks he will take down Vos as well, because despite the differences in opinion, one did not mess with seekers of any model without bringing down the wrath of the only true military-build on one's helm. Vosnian seekers will be a true challenge, masters of war and death that they are, and the thought of how Starscream will react upon learning he is the very last seeker in existence more than makes up for the knowledge that a great deal of his army will die in the assault.

Mechs would come easily to his hand if he can bring Vos down.

* * *

><p>As he expected, the underground crèche is revealed in less than a full cycle. He rewards the mechs who found the entrance, and drags his not-beloved into it. There, in full sight of several dozen younglings and sparklings who do not understand what is going on, he chains the seeker to the ground. He has made sure that Starscream is weak from hunger and pain; seeker's, no matter their ideals, were notorious for their berserker-like rage when their young were threatened. And he means to do so much more than simply threaten. Again, he hold's the seeker's helm in place as he allows his mechs to do as they willed to the young innocents. He smiles as his mechs, monsters all, fall upon the sparklings and younglings alike with no remorse and no mercy. He watches as the young are forced upon thick spikes much too long and too wide for their delicate, tiny bodies, watches as some are eaten alive, watches as still-developing wings are separated from still-developing bodies.<p>

He watches his men and smiles, and he listens to Starscream's broken, faithless silence and rejoices.

* * *

><p>His seeker is silent and cold, broken and beautiful, but so proud, too proud. Starscream's pride and defiance lingers in every inch of silence, with every sound the seeker fails to make as his body is tortured. Optimus considers the problem seriously, well aware that if Starscream remains mentally strong then there will be no ultimate weapon to unleash upon the universe. He thinks, perhaps, the problem lingers in that he has been the only one to personally sully the seeker's frame; he thinks, perhaps, that the seeker needs to be completely and utterly used for that pride to shatter.<p>

He considers for a long time, weighing his options. He is strangely reluctant to pass the seeker off to his troops, well aware that he might not get the seeker back at all, that the seeker may die before he is broken completely. He considers and plans and in between his thinking, he issues his orders concerning Vos.

His mechs are certainly eager, he thinks merely several rotations after giving his order – Vos is little more than a hole in the ground, and its winged denizens, the supposed masters of War and Death, turn out to be little better than the Crystal City seekers when it comes to facing their annihilation. He turns towards the shattered frame of his little pet, watching those artic-cold blue optics that watch him in return, burning with hate, burning, burning. Well. That won't do at all.

That evening he makes his decision, and as a reward for a job well done and a city well-sacked, gives his seeker to his men to play with. He issues only two orders concerning the seeker's health: first, that any life-threatening injuries are to be immediately reported to Ratchet, that the seeker may be promptly repaired for continued play, and second, that no mech was to even consider touching the seeker's ember.

That part of the seeker remains his in totality, and he does not share.

* * *

><p>The vorns pass swiftly, his attention caught and held by this upstart rebel Megatron, and the army the former mathematician manages to raise against him. Optimus is at turns furious that someone <em>dares<em> defy him and the new order, and pleased to finally have a challenge. The challenge that Megatron poses is a serious one, despite how late in the game it comes, and it takes all of his considerable genius to not only keep his original plans on schedule, but hold off an army that grows stronger and more ruthless with every passing cycle. Megatron and his mechs are new to war, new to violence, but they are desperate and they are angry, and that gives them an edge that Optimus' own mechs, most of whom are in this for the fun, lack.

That lack doesn't last long, though. His mechs are hardly happy to find their 'fun' being opposed by the same sort of mechs that they had long secretly mocked for being weak and law-abiding citizens. So battles are raged and Cybertron becomes a twisted mockery of the beauty it once boasted.

And of his seeker he thinks not at all.

* * *

><p>Megatron grows bolder with each passing vorn, his courage and strength of will finding a hold in these tremulous times of war and growing strong. He pulls in the few neutrals who have managed to survive this long without declaring a side, and suddenly Optimus is being driven back. He is confused and outraged and beyond furious; Optimus wants to capture Megatron and <em>break<em> him. For the first time in vorns he thinks about his once-beloved, but the thought is quick a fleeting, a mere image of himself on a throne and two pets at his pedes: the weapon his seeker will be, and the toy he will make out of Megatron.

The image is a good one, and it comforts him with every loss in battle he suffers.

* * *

><p>Success! Such glorious, magnificent triumph. He looks upon his prisoners and smirks. He has not only driven Megatron out of Iacon completely, but he has in his grasp most of the rebel chain of command. He wastes no time on gloating, though, and issues orders for their interrogation to begin immediately. Even if they reveal nothing of worth, the exercise will be good for his mechs, who have gone far too long without fresh toys.<p>

He enjoys watching his mechs as they tear through their captives, relishing in the screams that echo piercingly throughout his entire base. As an after-thought, he decides to pay a visit to his own little project, to see if the seeker has been thoroughly broken. He should be, given how long he's been a 'guest' of Optimus' mechs. But the sight that greets him is not one of a mentally-broken mech cowering in a corner of his cell, no. No. Optics cold and hating look at him much as they did that day so long ago, still too-blue. His body is beyond misshapen, wings holding on by bare tethers, legs broken and armor dented. The seeker's colors have faded, and he is missing three fingers and a portion of his jaw-plating, but there is no mistaking just how _alive_ the seeker is.

There is no mistaking how _furious_ the seeker is.

Starscream's fury can be felt like a living entity that is barely leashed, barely contained within the fragile shell that is his body. Optimus waits patiently, waiting for his once-beloved to speak, to curse at him as the seeker surely wanted to. But nothing comes. No sound, not even a rev of his engines or his turbines. The silence stretches, cold and dark, and the seeker's fury beats down upon Optimus' energy-field in wave after wave of unmatchable strength. He cannot bear it, cannot stand strong in that dismal silence.

Obviously he has failed in some fashion; obviously he should have paid more attention to his pet project. Now he must try and fix things, try and get his plans for the seeker back on track. But he is at a loss, and does not know how or even where to begin. Grimacing, he leaves the brig. Something needs to be done, but he doesn't know what.

* * *

><p>The problem of what he is to do with his seeker is blown to the wayside when Megatron attacks. Iacon comes under assault in several key locations, and he is hard pressed to defend them all. He personally heads to what had once been the Iacon Institute of the Sciences where surveillance has caught sight of Megatron.<p>

Only he's not there. No one is, which tells him that either he has a spy in his midst, or his surveillance system has been hacked. Knowing as they do the punishment for treachery, Optimus doubts any of his mechs would dare betray him like this. He checks the area carefully, wondering if this is to be an ambush of sorts, but the ruins of the Institute are as silent as the dead and twice as still. There is nothing living here, and he wonders why he had been led here if not for a trap. It takes only a moment of serious contemplation before he snarls and races back to his base – it is a trap alright, but one more sneaky than a simple ambush. Along the way, he issues orders to his various generals to retreat from their various battles and return post-haste to the base.

Distractions. Nothing but distractions guaranteed to separate his men into manageable groups spread over the entirety of Iacon, he himself led to the one area farthest away from the true objective: Megatron does not mean to take Iacon back, but rather free his captured command. And in the midst of all the prisoners that bear the Decepticon mark, there is a single seeker, the last of his frame-type, a seeker who hates Optimus with a passion capable of burning suns and a genius intellect to back it up. If Megatron should free him….

Optimus curses and drives faster.

* * *

><p>Optimus laughs for a long time – mostly out of relief – when he learns that while the Decepticons have been successfully freed, the rebel leader has left Starscream right where he is. Megatron is a fool, he has always known this, but never before had he had living proof of that foolishness. The silly mech could have gained a loyal follower the likes of which could have completely turned the war in Megatron's favor had he rescued Starscream; conversely, Megatron could have completely thrown a wrench in Optimus' plans by simply putting the wretched seeker out of his misery. Instead, Megatron did neither, simply ignored the seeker, left Starscream in his cell as if he was too dangerous to even approach.<p>

Optimus agrees. Starscream is dangerous in his own way, and always would be, no matter how broken he became. And he would break. His mechs are furious that their toys have been taken from them, furious that they had been deceived so thoroughly. He allows them to anything and everything they want to the seeker who even now watches him with cold, burning optics, silent as the dead. He does not linger long, though. Shortly after the venting begins, Optimus goes down to personally oversee the torture.

He is… _alarmed_ by Starscream's new optic color – gold-red, the exact color of molten metal – and even more alarmed by what the seeker does the second he catches sight of Optimus.

Starscream smiles. Smiles and smiles and makes not a single sound despite the pain he must surely be feeling, despite the bitterness and fury in his gaze that is focused so intensely. Something in Optimus' ember recognizes that something irrevocable has changed, something that causes his ember to twist in combined fear and warning.

His mechs force the seeker onto his shattered pedes, laughing. Starscream's gaze goes distant, as if looking at something behind Optimus, but there is nothing there.

"Say my name," the seeker says, voice a quiet shattered mockery of what Optimus remembers. The mechs holding him up drop him in their shock, and if Optimus wasn't feeling the same, he'd be laughing. Vorns upon vorns, and the seeker had never once made a single sound, and now he speaks? Optimus wanted to be hopeful, wanted this to mean that the seeker was finally on the verge of breaking into something he could mold into his own, but for the gnawing fear in his ember.

Starscream falls to his knees, unable to support his own weight on his broken pedes. And then his smile, sharp and cold and as cruel as shattered glass, turns sweet and knowing. "I, Starscream, heir to Starsinger, once-Lord of Crystal City,…"

"Kill him." The order escapes his own mouth before he is even conscious of saying it, but he does not retract it once given. The warning in his ember is screaming at him to not let the seeker finish. His mechs react as expected, and for the first time Optimus curses his forethought of denying weapons past a certain point in the brig, as his mechs are forced to resort to beating the seeker to death.

A gun would be the most useful thing in the world right now.

"…ruler now of dust and ash and rusted corpses, do hereby enter into a covenant with Unicron, the Dark God…."

"KILL HIM!" he shrieks, ember a tight ball of fear. Starscream must not finish the pledge. He does not know why he is so afraid, as he does not believe in the gods of Cybertron, and does not believe that Starscream's pledge will be any more successful now then his prayers were so long ago.

But, still…. There is some sort of weight to Starscream's words, as if something or someone greater than Optimus is watching, listening, waiting.

"…I want, no, I _demand _justice for what was done to me and those under my family's protection. I understand that once the covenant is completed…"

One of his mechs, a particularly cruel grunt, finally gets the bright idea of grabbing Starscream's jaw and ripping it off his face. Energon pours, wires snap and spark, but Starscream keeps speaking – and why not? The jaw and mouth is just mimicry of some being from their distant past; as long as the vocalizer is intact, no mech _really_ needed a mouth or a jaw to speak.

"_KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"_ he is shrieking, over and over, but it is too late, much too late.

"…that my ember is forfeit unto Unicron. So mote it be."

And then a pede slams through the canopy of the seeker's chassis, right through and into the ember. For a moment, Optimus believes that everything is fine, that the seeker is dead – his corpse is even greying – but then Starscream's optics flicker to life and the color returns. The seeker's gaze regains it's cold, burning intensity, still that ghastly gold-red color, and focuses on him.

And still the seeker smiles.

* * *

><p><em>Beautiful<em>, Optronix thinks sadly to himself. Starscream is so achingly beautiful that it is painful in the extreme to see the seeker and know that he had nothing to do with the transformation.

He watches, attention caught and held by the seeker sitting so calmly on his throne of battered, shattered corpses. His little once-beloved is just as battered, just as shattered, but unlike the bodies he rests upon, Starscream is _alive_ and the ferocity of his living will surrounds him like an invisible mantle of raw power. Starscream is a living reminder that Optimus has failed; despite many vorns of planning and torture, despite the even longer vorns of patient waiting, he has failed to bring his ultimate weapon into being. While Starscream has finally become everything that he had ever wished him to be (and so much more), it is not to _his_ call the seeker comes.

It is such a waste, Optronix knows. This beauty is leaking his own tainted energon, his fury-mad optics so unlike either the Vosnian or the Crystal City seekers' optics glowing bright on facial painting that is whiter than one of Cybertron's many moons. Optimus knows that inside Starscream's genius processor there are no weapons designs or chemical warfare tactics, but rather simply _death_, and how the seeker can spread that death to any and all who live while those he had once cherished do not. He sees that this seeker has become something other than what Optimus had always thought he should be: Rage and Fury and Vengeance given form and intent.

Unbidden, Optronix glances at the mech claiming to be the Unmaker whose very presence prevents him from going to Starscream, staring at he who was undoubtedly stronger and more terrifying than anything or anyone Optimus has ever met. Whether or not this mech is Unicron hardly matters any longer, when it is to _His_ hand Starscream comes, when it is _He_ who devours his army one by one. He looks away, unable to watch as those he has cultivated and led into battle after battle for many, many vorns are denied any kind of reunion with Primus, unable to bear the shame in his defeat. For he _has_ been defeated, more completely than if he had merely been killed. He turns his gaze instead to Starscream, who looks at him with a cruel smile on his torn lips, hatred in those burning red-gold optics, and bittersweet joy in his ember. Optimus knows why he lives; he had once forced Starscream to watch as he and his burned Starscream's world to the ground and erased the existence of his frame-kin, and now too must he pay for that. He closes his optics, unable to match gazes with Starscream's fury, knowing bitterly that even in this he fails, for unlike Starscream so long ago, he has not the strength to watch as all his plans and dreams are ripped apart and digested.

It is almost a relief when the mech claiming to be the Unmaker finally turns his attention onto him. Optimus surrender's his ember with no protest, knowing better – he has seen what happens to those that fight that mech's voracious hunger, and he does not want his last moments to be of pain. He bares his ember, chest plates opening reluctantly, shutters his optics, and waits. The touch, when it comes, is oddly gentle, and Optimus can almost fool himself into believing that it is the touch of a lover instead of a mech determined to _eat_ his ember. He focuses on that delusion, losing himself in half-remember trysts that blur into one unique encounter, frame easily starting to heat under the mech's knowing touches.

"Unicron," comes the distinctive, brittle sound of Starscream's voice, and just like that the illusion is shattered. His optics jerk open and his gaze unerringly finds that of Starscream's.

The mech claiming to be the Unmaker releases Optimus' ember and turns to look at Starscream, gaze hungry and amused. "Yes?

Starscream smiles, helm cocked slightly, optics burning, _burning_. "Make him suffer," the seeker whispers, and in the absolute silence of the battlefield strewn with corpses, the words echo piercingly.

Optimus spends only a click staring at Starscream, who even now that he's won would still see him punished for crimes long gone, before he panics. He does not want the pain he knows the large mech before him can give him, he does not want to suffer. The silver and gold mech claiming to be the Unmaker follows Starscream's orders, so if Starscream is dead….

He roars and launches himself at the seeker, fear making him fast, hope making him faster. He draws his energon sword, the only weapon left to him, and thrusts out, piercing the seeker right through the ember. He pants, grinning, thinking that he's won, until he notices Starscream's smile.

That smile. The same smile that the seeker had given him that day in the brig, the one that said he knows something that Optimus doesn't. Optimus releases the sword that is piercing the ember of a seeker that even now remains impossibly alive and stumbles back into the grip of the mech named Unicron, and for the first time since he'd seen the mech, he suddenly doesn't disbelieve the mech's claim of god-hood. "How?" he whispers out, frightened.

Starscream smiles, even as his optics spit out hate, even as his hand pulls out the sword that pierces his ember, even as he bleeds and bleeds.

The god holding him chuckles. "He is _mine_," the Unmaker says, tone almost friendly. "No mortal may take what has been promised to me. As long as we are bound together in a covenant, he cannot die." Claws caress his frame beneath Starscream's burning gaze, pause over his ember, and then move on. There is a demented hiss of "_He is mine_," and suddenly there is nothing but the pain.

Pain, a burning red-gold gaze, and high-pitched laughter: he will never know anything else.

* * *

><p><strong>Hahahahaha! It's finally done. I'm sorry this last part took so long, but as you can probably tell, it kinda ran away from me. As I said above, this portion of the fic was supposed to strongly mirror that of Diabolicae Foedus, only centered around Optimus Prime. It was a bit of a struggle in some areas, again because I don't identify well with evil tyrants as well as I do sneaky little shits (XD), but I think I persevered. <strong>

**In the interests of those who asked: this four-part "drabble" is actually 20 pages long, and just under 11k words. I wrote most of it in the course of thirteen hours (combined), and this last section (around 4.5k words without the intro/outro) took me around 5 hours. My recommended music list for reading anything in this 'verse:  
><strong>

**Evanescence "Made of Stone (Renholdër Remix)"  
><strong>

**Danny Elfmann "Little Things (UNKLE version)"  
><strong>

**Kid Cuddi "The Ruler and the Killer"  
><strong>

**Marilyn Manson "Seizure of Power"  
><strong>

**Lacuna Coil "Trip the Darkness (Ben Weinman Remix)"  
><strong>

**The Cure "Apart **(Renholdër Remix)"**  
><strong>

**Linkin Park "Blackout **(Renholdër Remix)"**  
><strong>

**Maroon 5 "Come Away to the Water"  
><strong>

**Rammstein "Ich Tu Dir Weh (Fukk Offf Remix)"  
><strong>

**8mm "Liar (Revenant Mix)"  
><strong>

**The Naked and Famous "Young Blood **(Renholdër Remix)"**  
><strong>

****Also, as a fair warning, don't play CastleVille or CityVille while trying to be creative. It doesn't work very well. XD  
><strong>**


	7. Feindliche Übernahme

**Title:** Sidus Ad Quirito Diabolo

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Drabble #4: **_**Feindliche Übernahme**_

**Summary:** Curiosity kills.

**Characters: **Ratchet, Starscream, Unicron

**Warnings: **bad mojo

**Continuity:** Shattered Glass, major AU

**A/N: **One of several other drabbles I've written for this series. Finally got around to writing something with Ratchet in it as a main character, and I hope that it works for Ratchet!fans.

* * *

><p>"<em>Anger ventilated often leads to forgiveness; anger concealed often hardens to revenge."<em>

Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

The seeker's continued survival defies all logic.

Ratchet begins swearing the click he sees the broken mess his commander's favorite toy is delivered in. It only takes one look at the seeker to know that he may not even be able to fix him this time – a mech could only take so much damage after all, and this one has been balancing on the edge of too much for too long. He nonetheless moves the seeker onto the only berth wide enough to accommodate the broken remains of the mech's wings. He values his life, after all, and even if Optimus _had_ ordered Starscream's death (which he sincerely doubted, not after all this time spent trying to _break_ the damnable thing), the fact that the seeker is still alive says many things, none of which are good if he dies while in Ratchet's dubious care.

So.

He carefully arranges the seeker's broken limbs, assessing damage (of which there is much, too much, really) and making a mental list of the repairs he can do and in which priority he should consider doing them. (Not that that is necessarily the order in which he would do the repairs. But it is a necessary process, as it wouldn't do to kill the mech he's trying to repair by accident.) He turns to get his tools and studies them intently, determining if any of his blades need to be sharpened or cleaned. Some do, and so he sets about the tasks.

The sounds of metal groaning and screeching and the clatter of panicked movement has him whirling around, only to stare in shock. The seeker has made it to his shattered, useless pedes and is nevertheless almost out the door, systems whining under the strain of stressing his wounds beyond anything Ratchet knows his fellow Autobots could survive, before Ratchet finally regaines his senses and quickly brings the seeker down with a carefully aimed wrench.

He has to _strap_ the seeker to the berth.

Ratchet doesn't understand it, c_an't_ understand it, not really. He's repaired the seeker so many times that there is no wire that is a stranger to his knowing hands. His optics have seen every inch of the former scientist, inside and out, and he knows that there is _nothing_ about this seeker that is abnormal for his frame-set. Despite this knowledge, he searches for his answers anyway, cutting open the seeker panel by panel, ripping wires carelessly in his search for truth. He tastes of the seeker's energon and rips through the seeker's firewalls, becoming more intimate with the seeker's thoughts and internals than any other mech ever could short of a full merge.

And yet he finds nothing which could possibly explain how this seeker lives when another would have been long dead. _Nothing_. He stares at the mangled frame on the berth, knowing in every inch of his being that the seeker should be dead, if not from his previous wounds than because of the one's he's just suffered. The seeker is splayed open, internals broken and shattered, his tanks and tubes emptied of energon, and his processor disconnected from the rest of his systems. And yet…,

… And yet, the seeker still watches him, optics cold and judging and so _furious_. Ratchet can see all the fires of the pit in the seeker's odd red-gold gaze, and wonders at it even as he instinctively shrinks back. He has met many seekers over the course of his long life, both of the Vosnian build and the Crystal City one, of red optics and blue, and never once before has he seen a seeker he's been more primally afraid of. If it isn't for the fact that the seeker is a broken mess and strapped down to the berth….

As it is, he quickly begins to put the seeker back together again, trying his very best to ignore the way servos with dull-tipped fingers – one of the many modifications done to the Crystal City seekers had made to help differentiate themselves from their Vosnian cousins – clench and scrape against the metal of the berth, digging_ into_ the metal of the berth as if they bore the claws of his distant kin who are also long gone and dead.

For a moment, he stops his repairs and considers the seeker. Starscream is the very last seeker in existence, still as proud and arrogant as ever despite everything that has been done to him. Starscream has born their hatred, their fury, their disdain, and their perverse lusts, and aside from physical damage and an almost apathetic state of being, shows no signs of ever being as broken mentally as he knows Optimus needs the seeker to be. Ratchet himself thinks that this has all been a mistake, that they have done something for which not even Primus could possibly forgive or condone, but who is he in the grand scheme of things? He rather would have simply kill the seeker the second they found out that Starscream's internal firewalls were too powerful to override or bypass with viruses and alternate coding. Starscream would be useful on their side, he admits, but as it is, he wastes resources on the seeker's near-cyclical repairs, especially considering that he knows that the seeker will never give in, if only to get _some_ form of revenge on the one who started all of this.

Still, he considers, looking, really _looking_ at the seeker splayed partially open before him, still staring him down with optics that burn in the intensity of their hatred. His commander has only ever issued one warning in regards to Starscream's treatment: no one is to touch the seeker's ember. Logically, Ratchet knows that to break that order is to suffer worse than death, as Optimus Prime is, well_, creative_. But he knows that he has explored every other inch of the seeker, and has found nothing to explain why he still lives, proud and furious, when others would have long ago surrendered.

Ratchet is uneasy about his choice, but he nonetheless connects his systems to the seeker's, taking much care to keep their embers to peripheral contact only. He is breaking the only taboo his Prime has made given the seeker's treatment, but he _needs_ to know. But even with the care he's taken to firewall his systems, a tide of fury breaks those firewalls down as if they were never there to begin with, simply breezing through his systems as if they were as familiar to the seeker as his own. Ratchet rears back, attempting to disconnect, or at the very least, put some distance between them and their embers, but it does _nothing_. Beneath him, the broken, eviscerated body of the seeker writhes and something much like amusement-not-his-own is filtered through his own systems.

'**Silly Autobot**,' a voice – a grating, deeply resonant purr that he can physically feel scrape along his systems – inside his head whispers. '**Did you really think that you could so casually hack into what is mine?**'

Beneath him, the seeker breaks into laughter, voice a shadowy whisper of shattered glass and tearing metal made all the worse by the fact that his vocalizer is just as damaged as the rest of him, and therefore should not be working at all. The sounds that force their way out of the seeker's mouth are nothing he wants to hear; his flailing hands struggle to hit the emergency disconnect he has prepared in advance because while he may be sadistic and half-insane, he is no fool and something about this seeker has _always_ alarmed him.

He strikes the emergency disconnect over and over, but while he feels the seeker's systems leave his own, there is still the overwhelming sense of _another_ digging through every part of him. "What have you _done_?" he howls, hands scrambling at his chassis where his ember feels as if it is being shredded. "I will rip you into little shreds and hang your ember as my new ceiling light!"

"**I think, doctor, that you've done quite enough.**" The voice is cold and sinister, deep and demented, and to Ratchet's horror, it comes from his own mouth. He stares in horror at his own hands, which have moved off his chassis of their own volition, watching – _feeling_ – the metal buckle and reshape themselves. The thin, delicate hands that are part and parcel of being a medic become thick and heavily armored, with sharp, savage claws and spiked bracers over the joints. They were the hands of a war-build, not a medic.

Worse still is the feeling of the rest of his body changing. His horrified gaze turns to the seeker, who is still laughing, still watching him with an amused glee that borders on madness. "_What have you done?_" he shrieks out, even as his body is forcefully elongated and thickened with mass he never had and has no idea where it comes from.

The seeker smiles and stops laughing, but says nothing. Just smiles and smiles as everything that is Ratchet is taken from him, warped and twisted into something, some_one_ completely different.

The last thing Ratchet is aware of is the feeling of his ember finally imploding under the strain, and the last thing he hears is the sharp, brittle sound of the seeker's voice practically cooing, "Welcome and well-met, Unicron."

* * *

><p><strong>For those who are curious, the title of this drabble is in German, and means "hostile takeover." (At least, according to my translator it does. XD )<strong>


End file.
